There’s something that I just love about the rain… honestly I’m not quite sure if I could fully explain it, but there’s something so wonderful about it. Cleansing the night air, leaving life just a touch lighter as we embrace that first breath of fresh air.
I’m beginning to realize just how hardy the Russian people are, and not just the stereotypical cold resilience that they’ve been labeled with… the pride the people take in their heritage is a joy to discuss, while most are very conscience of their country’s past and the struggles it still faces, my favorite conversations are those when the individual has an unflinching resolve to represent their nation properly to the “foreigner”.
And while I could go on for some time about what I’ve been learning about the people here, (and probably will sometime soon) the focus of this entry is to investigate the Russian banya in all of its glory.
You see when I got here, after having been introduced to everyone; I was led through the grand tour of what would become our home over the next few months, but one thing that was left unexplained was the guest house on the ridge overlooking our house. Just a few days later I’d discover that this was the birthplace of what I’d like to consider my true introduction into Russian culture…
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